We can still hold hands

At nine years old, I know my days of snuggles, hugs and kisses, and holding hands with my son are numbered. That is to say, I hold no illusion that he'll be letting me give him a kiss goodbye in high school. At least not in public. For now, though, I relish these times when I can hold him and reassure him, kiss him goodbye before school, and have him reach for my hand when we walk together.

This morning on the way to before school care, we were walking in like any other morning. This morning, though, his hand felt different in mine. It felt stronger, fuller, bigger.

Me:
"Look that that, your hand is almost as big as mine. Some day it will be bigger than mine."
Fred:
"We can still hold hands when it's that big, right?"
Me:
"Yes, we can, baby."
Fred:
Smile, look of relief on his face.

And he kissed and hugged me goodbye when I left.

This moment was brought to you by love.

A very sweet Monday moment

With my husband working 10 hour days, off on Monday, I'm able to take my time getting ready for work this one day during the work week. I catch up on my Facebook friends, watch the news, get myself ready for the day, and get my coffee (not necessarily in that order). We now also have a guest room, and I'm able to do all of this with the guest room door closed, so as not to wake my husband or the sleeping monkeys. I really enjoy Monday mornings.

Generally on Mondays the kids aren't yet awake when I leave the house at 6:30AM. There are exceptions, like this moring, though. I opened the door of the guest room, which sits directly across the hall from Ethel's room, and could hear a tiny voice. "Great", I thought, "Fred is up and Daddy is still sleeping". I stood still, looking around as my eyes adjusted to the darkness in the hallway, looking for signs of movement. Nothing. Just then, I could see the glare of the street light through the white sailcloth panels on Fred's window in his room, meaning that his door was ajar, and he had escaped. Now to find out where he'd escaped to.

Quiet as a cat burglar, I tip-toed into my bedroom where I found Daddy still sleeping. Not here. Then I crept toward Fred's door to see if I could hear him perhaps playing in his room. Not there. Then I heard Ethel, talking sweetly in her gentle, teacher-y voice. Ah ha! Slowly I approached her room (how I missed this when I first passed the room I have no idea), and didn't see any children at first. Where could they be hiding? The answer - under the covers. Ethel had coaxed Fred up onto her bed where she was adjusting the covers and making room for him beside her. As I got closer, the creak in the floor beneath me gave me away, and Ethel peeked out from under her brightly colored comforter to declare, "Look Mommy, I found Fred by my radio! So I told him to come lay down in my bed!". Then Fred, peeking out without fully revealing his face, said to me, "Mommy, you have to go back in {the other} room, we're sleeping.". I wish I'd had the camera on me at that moment.

I have to admit that when I first realized Fred was up (and out of his room) and Daddy was still sleeping, my first thought/feeling was, "Why the hell is he still sleeping?! Fred is out of his room! When is he going to figure that out and wake up?". Then I calmed down and remembered how stealth Fred can be. Once I saw the two monkeys under the covers in Ethel's room, all the anger and negative thoughts washed out of my mind, and my heart swelled with pride. These two monkeys are painfully adorable.

As I left the house with all my gear, and my coffee, the vision of Fred curled up on his sister's bed, and the two of them talking and getting comfy, was enough to keep me warm for the ride to the office.